Helping to Forget
by Nidoran Duran
Summary: [AU] James and Harry don't come home late from a party, leaving Ron to console Lilly on the matter of James's infidelity. Commission.


As asked for by the commissioner, this is a universe where James and Lily don't die, thus there is no "Boy Who Lived" stuff and such.

The news that Harry was being scouted by several professional quidditch teams was cause for raucous celebration as far as James and Sirius were concerned. He was on the verge of starting his seventh year at Hogwarts, but already Puddlemere United and the Chudley Cannons had given Gryffindor's seeker very generous offers for starting contracts, with a few other teams noting their interest but not yet making offers. As much as it was for Harry, the noisy drinking of friends of Harry and the family went long into the night and proved it was also at least a little bit about the three surviving Marauders being young again, even Remus loosening up to celebrate the occasion.

Ron had lost himself in a myriad of firewhiskey, mostly glad Hermione had no intention of joining in on the drinking, returning home after dinner to leave them all be. Their recent breakup had been hard on both of them and strained matters, and while he knew they would work out their feelings and come to an amicable agreement for the sake of the trio on the Hogwarts Express, every day he could delay the inevitable was a good one. No worried voice telling him to ease up on the alcohol or to follow up each drink with equal amounts of water. Just a fun atmosphere free of pretense or the problems that had plagued their interactions all summer.

But such a voice may have proven useful, given the way he over drank, barely conscious when around one in the morning Sirius and James pulled Harry up and told him they were going to go find him some girls and get him "used to the sports life". The party had worn down, most of the guests had gone home, and it was only the Potter family—minus Lily who had since gone to bed and was not too fond of the revelry herself—Sirius, and Ron left.

"Ron," Harry said, standing upright and nudging his comatose friend in the shoulder. "Dad's going to take us to meet some girls he knows, do you want to come?" His voice was only a little slurred, both because he had shown more restraint than his redheaded friend, but also just because he seemed to process alcohol much better. "It'll help you forget about her." He didn't want to take sides in the matter, keeping his remark a wholly neutral statement about how meeting a girl would distract from his woes.

"Guaranteed to make you say 'Hermione who?' by the end of it," Sirius said, significantly drunker. He would have said he was reliving his youth were he not the wild, middle-aged man who had failed to really settle down much or mature. He was a hard drinker and a harder partier, and if anything this was his world and James was merely visiting.

"Nah," Ron said, eyes slowly starting to close, his body leaning down toward the spot on the couch Harry had sat on, the warmth there. It was a sleepy seeking, his arms stretching out as the now empty butterbeer bottle he'd chugged fell to the floor, rolling along the carpet. "I can't feel my legs anymore, I think I'll just stay here." He didn't so much 'settle' comfortably onto the couch so much as flail about briefly and then ragdoll, spreading out and dozing off, already snoring before they'd even asked if he was sure. No skin off their backs, they left the sleeping redhead on the couch and headed off with their original plan, just the three of them.

When Ron came to, a miracle had occurred. Save for some aches from passing out on a less-than-sleepable-upon couch in a position that could have been a little better thought out, there was nothing. No throbbing headache or vomit stains from an early morning awakening he'd since forgotten about. He felt, albeit hungry, and pulled himself to his feet in search of the kitchen and the salvation of raiding the Potters' fridge. There seemed fewer pleasures in the world for Ron than opening up the heavily stocked fridge and basking in the glory of how much food they had, always more full and free to take bits and pieces from than his own home's fridge, only a third as many people in the house and always plenty of leftovers to munch on.

But as he entered the kitchen, he was greeted to a sight that made him forget all about his hunger. Standing in front of the stove and tending to a cup of tea she was brewing was Lily Potter, who despite being more than twice Ron's age was one of the most beautiful women he knew, especially in the scandalously little clothing she had on; just a bra and panties, both of them black and lacy, hugging the supple curve of her rear in a way that made his jaw drop a little. He was practically frozen in place, eyes consumed by the sight of her, and though her ass was the primary focus it was far from the only one. She kept in remarkable shape, her body much nicer than he'd have expected a late-30's woman to have, and everything he saw was a treat for his eyes. A guilty treat, but no guilty enough for his conscience to do anything about it.

"No call," she ranted. "No promise of when they're coming home... James is probably introducing Harry to one of his floozys and fondling another one right now. I'm sick of this game. It's always a game to him! And he's going to turn our son into the exact same as him at this rate, putting all these notions of being able to sleep around if he's famous into his head. Harry is such a good boy and James is going to turn him into someone who can't respect a woman either." She continued to complain audibly to herself as she stirred her tea a little too vigorously, the spoon clinking against the inside of the cup again and again, like she had forgotten she was even stirring tea and just needed to do something fast and a little violent with her hand.

That was finally enough to make guilt set in, because this was not his best friend's mother being sexy without knowing he was there, this was his best friend's mother privately venting about her marriage. Jame's infidelity was something nobody ever really talked about, which even Harry always seemed to clam up in the face of whenever the subject was broached, but which everyone close to the Potter family knew to be true. An unspoken dark secret everyone just tried to pretend wasn't there for the sake of keeping things positive. But it was a reality, and it hurt, as evidenced by the weary tone in her voice, sadness dripping with resentment and regret.

"Mrs. Potter?" Ron asked, eyes quickly snapping up to the back of her head in hopes of pretending he'd just walked in. "Good morning." His voice was sleepy, edged with the sort of dulled wits that came from waking up after a night of drinking; even without pain and side-effects, it still made waking a little less than pleasant.

"Ron!" she said, nearly jumping as she looked back over her shoulder to the groggy seventeen year-old standing in the doorway to the kitchen. "Oh, good morning, I hope I didn't wake you." There were some tears in her eyes, but it was the colour filling into her cheeks as she turned around, her cleavage rather nicely put on display by her bra and knowing his eyes were going to move toward it on instinct, that really embarrassed her. "Would you like some tea?"

Ron strode forward as she turned back around, already grabbing a cup for him and pouring him some water from the kettle. "No, you didn't," he said reassuringly, closing the distance between them considerably. "But I would love some tea, thanks." He'd gone into the kitchen to have a slice of cake, but cake was the last thing on his mind at that point. At least, not that sort of cake. "Are you alright?"

The tea bag fell into the water and Lily turned back around, surprised to see him standing so close toward her. In the grand, spacious kitchen he was only maybe a foot and a half away from her, making her feel a little boxed in. "I'm fine," she lied, and both of them knew it. "Just worrying about the boys and hoping they're not in too much trouble, wherever they are."

Looking Lily in the eye and seeing her pain made Ron's chest tighten. She deserved better, the loving mother of his best friend and a wife whose faithfulness wasn't returned. She was his milf crush since he first met her the summer before his second year, and he was enamored from that moment, only growing more beautiful over the five years and coming off as one of the greatest and most caring parents he knew. "You shouldn't put up with him, you know," he said, not even briefly considering the words before they left his lips in a moment of intensity. His feet had pushed forward a little. "You're a kind and beautiful woman, and you should be treated better than that. He doesn't deserve you."

A little surprised by his vigor, her eyes went wide, and though the tears began to well up again, she smiled. "Thank you, that's very kind. But we have to stay together for Harry's sake, and the life we've built, it's... I can't walk away from all this. I appreciate the concern, but there's not much I can do about it."

"You can even the scales," Ron said, eyes going wide as he realized the line of thought he was committing to and everything it would do. This could go very well, or it could ensure he would never feel comfortable coming over ever again. "If he's going to sleep around, then you should too. Get back at him by giving him a taste of his own bullshit."

The surprise deepened as she stared at him, pulling back against the front of the stove a little. "I-" She took in a deep breath, closing her eyes as she felt herself swept away beneath the force of raw emotion. Somehow, she felt like she could tell it to Ron, even if she had no particular reason to trust him on the matter. He was a well-behaved boy and a good friend to her son, but this was a very adult topic and she was opening up without a second thought. "I've thought about it before. A lot, actually. It would take a lot of stress off, but I... It's not right, Ron. Even if it would be absolutely within my rights for all the other girls he's been with since even back when we were in Hogwarts, I don't know if I can bring myself to do it."

Which was around when Ron's body decided to abandon all sense of shame or conscience, a hand reaching out and grabbing one of her ample breasts, squeezing it firmly. His eyes went wide partly from the feeling of a soft breast in his hand but mostly just because he couldn't believe he'd done it, sharing Lily's surprise clearly. The woman took it a little better though, the feeling of his fingers pressing into his flesh as he groped her lighting up something inside of her, a fire she'd never wanted to tend to, always pushed off to the side and ignored in the name of common decency. Here was Ron, young and willing and at least on some level giving a shit about her. Her husband was probably balls-deep in someone his age in that exact moment anyway.

She leaned forward, grabbing his head and pulling him into a kiss. Lily found the clumsiness of youth, which far from disappointing, reinvigorated her, gave her something she hadn't known in about two decades. But even better off was Ron, thrilled by the experience of her kiss, so much better than Hermione's lips had been, and the fact she responded to his advances with advances of her own was all the push he needed to act on his instincts, both hands reaching for her breasts, kneading them through her bra as he returned the kiss, pressing his body tight into hers. "Turn around and lean over the counter," he whispered, head throbbing, blood pumping, cock raging, but he was willing to put all of that aside to ensure he did properly by Lily, gave her what she deserved.

Without hesitation, Lily took a few steps to the side and turned around, hands braced against the counter top, perfect, heart-shaped ass suck out for him as his body descended upon her again, pressing his chest into his back as he sank a hand down her panties. Even if he wasn't too great a kisser, she knew from the second he touched her that he knew exactly how to feel a girl up, his fingers at ease and familiar as they ran down her pussy, the tips a little calloused and firm. "Ah, please," she moaned, biting her lip as she leaned over the counter. "James hasn't touched me like he loves me in too long, so I'm trusting you to make me feel beautiful."

"You are beautiful, Mrs. Potter," Ron reassured her, and oh how he meant it. Leaning down upon her with all of his firmness and warmth, he laid kisses to the back of her neck and her shoulders as his other hand reached up to her breasts again, kneading them once more, feeling up the ample, soft flesh. So much rounder and lovelier to touch than Hermione's, perfect in his hand. Her rear wiggled against his groin, feeling his large erection raging in his pants, but he ignored the pleasure and the temptation. He could wait to get his rocks off a little bit, if only to give her the experience she needed to soothe her worries and her pain.

"Please, just call me Lily," she moaned, biting her lip as she pressed back into his lanky body, into the warmth there that helped wash away much of the pain left by waking up to an empty bed. Everything about his touch was electric, from his kisses to his groping to the way his fingers began to rub along her mound, getting her damp with their steady, surprisingly adept touches. Physical contact had not lit her up so bright in far too long, a breath of fresh air and a fun thrill she was eager to feel as much of as she possibly could while she had the chance, although if it felt this good she could see herself coming back for more.

"Lily," he moaned hotly into her ear, his knees weakening as teenage fantasies came true in the most brilliant manner possible. It was an incredible feeling, saying her name with that passion, that fire, and he wanted to say it more. "Say my name," he said, voice heavy as he sank fingers into her folds, finding her having quickly become a soaked, dripping mess for him. Her pussy was drenched and he was glad to provoke it more, pumping two hooked fingers into her while the others rubbed along her labia, his palm getting a little friction going on her clit. A working-over of her entire mound that was well worth the effort given the way she quickly began to squirm beneath his touch.

With her eyes shut tight, she ground her body against Ron's as much as possible, knowing he was focusing on her pleasure and that such a tease was likely trying his teenage patience, but unable to keep from it, especially given the thrill that the bulge she felt against her rear induced. If it was as large as it seemed to be, she was going to be in for a treat well beyond what James had given her. "Ron," she purred, tinged with raw passion that made the bulge throb intensely. The scandalous rush of a boy who was not James in the slightest touching her in her most intimate of pleases was amazing. Reaching behind her back, she undid her bra, letting the straps fall loose down her shoulders.

Taking the hint, Ron gladly pulled the bra down her arms and gripped her now bare breasts, his touch even more eager now that there was no lacy underwear in the way, perfect for framing but only in the way when he got to touching. Fondling and kneading her whole breast gave even more softness, more warmth to enjoy. His fingering picked up the pace as her hips started to rock back and forth in a bid for more pleasure. "More" was something he would gladly provide the beautiful woman without a second's hesitation.

She didn't know how he was so good at fingering, but she didn't complain at fucking all, moaning loudly as she drew closer to release, taking this blessing without question. All that mattered was how good it felt with her nipple being rolled between his fingertips and his digits plunging deep and fast into her. Lily felt better and more turned on than she had in far too long for her own good, taking the pleasure as it came with eagerness. "Deeper, please," she moaned, head leaning back as his lips dragged along her shoulder and up her neck, planting kisses everywhere. Passion and lust she'd long since forgotten the joys of were once more hers, and she couldn't have been happier.

Ron did as he was asked, but not at all surprised when she was only a few seconds later crying out in orgasmic bliss. Her slick inner walls clamped down on his probing digits as the older woman's body surged with pleasure, her hands pressing down hard against the table, arms strained as she bucked her hips and rode out what Ron intended to only be her first orgasm of the morning. He continued to rub her pussy until she calmed down, her breaths quickening and then slowing with the intentional heaviness of someone trying to pull themselves together. Grabbing her hips, he turned her around and bore another kiss down onto her lips, this time hungrier and met with more desperation.

"Do you feel beautiful yet?" he asked with a crooked smile.

"Yes," was her ragged reply.

"Are you ready to feel more?" Fingers hooked into the band of her panties, Ron already pushing her toward the next round, as his kisses trailed down her jaw, his knees bending forward so he his lips could drag along her body. They made a little stop along the way to focus on her breasts, kissing at the tops of them and licking the pert, hardened nipples, before he fell fully to his knees before her, slipping the lacy black underwear down her shapely legs. He was greeted with the incredible sight of the older woman's gorgeous mound before him, glistening with quim and ready for whatever he wanted.

Seizing what he wanted, Ron leaned forward and pressed a needy kiss into her folds, drawing a sharp breath from the older woman as she twisted a little, leaning hard against the counter top He'd wanted to do this for so long, to go down on his best friend's mother and show her how skilled a lover he was, how deserving of her affection he was for someone twenty years younger than her. The chance was finally upon him, Lily moaning and pressing her hips forward, eager to feel him eat her out with the kind of passion she deserved from a man, and he was not going to disappoint her. Not with so much on the line.

His tongue began to work her folds over, licking up her nectar from along her pussy lips as his eyes drifted up to her, with her long red hair falling all about her tense, pulled-up shoulders, to the smile on her face beaming down on him. It gave him the push he needed, his hands cupping her ample rear and digging his fingers into the flesh as he pressed forward and began to eat her out with all the youthful fire she knew he had, that he knew she was bound to grow addicted to in the whirlwind thrill of cheating on her unfaithful husband with him. It was quick and thirsty and full of energy, his entire being devoted to her pleasure in that moment and to nothing else.

Her fingers gripped the edge of the counter top, her body growing almost uncomfortably rigid in an attempt to curb the way she wanted to writhe and dance on his tongue, trying to hold still and let him work his magic. And oh, what magic it was. She'd heard he was having troubles with Hermione and that they'd broken up, but with the way he so selflessly went down on her she certainly couldn't assume it was anything to do with his skills as a lover. Even for decades of sexual activity, she found it hard to think she couldn't be pleasured by this boy, already one down and glad to find he could use his tongue just as well as his fingers.

Slowly, her hips started to roll, the self-imposed stiffness giving way to fluid motion as she found her rhythm and ground her dripping slit up against Ron's eager lips, his tongue still lapping away, his kisses against her clitoris sending jolts up through her body, making her spine arch. His fingers squeezed and kneaded her rear, the relentless groping continuing and feeling better than any sustained squeezing of her assets had any right to; he just knew how to make it feel impassioned rather than perverted. Easily acclimated to the pace he set, Ron rolled with her, moaning into he seized one of her labia between his lips and alternated between kissing and sucking on it, all the while maintaining eye contact. she couldn't tear herself away from. It told her he adored her, that she was the most beautiful woman she'd ever laid eyes on, a goddess deserving of the worship he laid down before her, and she gladly soaked in all of it.

There was something genuine about his touch, about his words, that made her believe he wasn't merely trying to sweet talk her into opening her legs for him. He genuinely adored her and felt compassion for her horrible marriage situation, and though he sought to give her relief through much of the same, it was an adoration that warmed her over on the inside, made it all seem more okay. If she was going to cheat with somebody, it was best if it was someone who cared about her on the level he did, who didn't just want to have sex with an older woman he found hot. That was the final factor for her, the thing that pushed the situation and it being something she could do with an almost clear conscience over the edge.

She was going over the edge herself, her second orgasm rapidly upon her as Ron's dutiful eating out came close off the heels of her first release. Fingers dug in hard to the marble top, her knuckles began to turn bone white from the force of her squeezing, eyes shutting tightly as once more, pleasure surged electrically through her body. "Ron!" she cried, head tossing back. "Oh Merlin, this is incredible. James has never eaten me out like this before!" Drawing out the final sound of 'before', she hit her climax, shuddering as her quim dripped freely from her slit, the increased flow gladly licked up and swallowed by Ron as he massaged her ass firmer. Her confession was sweet music to his ears. He'd gone from having sex with the unattainable milf of his dreams to giving her the best sex she'd ever known, and it was hard not to get a bit of a big head in the face of such a wonderful turn of events.

Slumping down against the counter, Lily took longer this time to gather herself, Ron standing up with a wide smile on his face, seeming satisfied after having given the woman head, even though his erection was almost painful at that point, locked in his boxers and screaming to be let loose. She knew it took, reaching forward for both his head and his underwear at the same time, pulling him into a kiss as she slid his underwear down, eyes pointed down. The sight of his fully erect cock slipping out from beneath the lowering band of his underwear made her face light up from the sheer awe of it.

"I want you one more time," she said, biting her lip. "Anywhere and anyway you want me. This time, it's all for you, because you've been such a good boy."

Ron knew exactly where he wanted her, the hands on her plump ass slipping down to the backs of her thighs, pulling her legs up. Excitedly, the older woman wrapped her legs around Ron's waist, arms going around his shoulders and lips pressing needily into his as he carried her off to the dining room, returning the kiss as much as he could as he laid her down right onto the table. Lily couldn't remember the last time she'd been fucked on a table. This was all proving so exciting!

His hands next grabbed her legs, pulling them up over his shoulders as he clumsily moved his hips around, lining his cock up with her primed, perfect pussy, her rear barely on the table, in perfect position to take down every last inch of him. With one powerful push in he did precisely that, going balls-deep into his best friend's mother without hesitation, groaning at what he'd been waiting for; at long last, relief. The wet, hot, velvety walls of her inner passage tight around his length, of her crying out his name again as he took her, pleasure for him but also very clearly for her as well, which was really the best kind of pleasure.

His thrusts were immediate and powerful, hips rocking hard as he kept her legs up against his body, ensuring an angle of penetration that led to the deep, raw fucking she needed, moaning and squirming on the table, with one of her hands down between her legs and furiously rubbing against her clit in a sloppy, off-rhythm pace not even attempting to meet his thrusts. She just wanted pleasure, intense and primal, without having to think much about anything. She'd done her thinking, even while getting eaten out, and now it was time to do nothing but lie back and get pounded raw. Nothing was going to be more therapeutic than that.

Ron held tightly onto her leg, gripping her thigh and squeezing it as his hips worked their steady beat, each time pressing balls-deep into her, but he wanted to do something more constructive with the other hand. His eyes fell to her breasts, bouncing from the force of his thrusts, and the choice was clear. He reached for one of them and, as he'd done plenty of times before, groped and squeezed it, drawing louder moans from Lily. She couldn't believe he couldn't keep his hands off her breasts, almost obsessed with them at this point, but it was an obsession she was more than glad to indulge so long as he held onto it so firmly, touched her so well. Earnest love of any part of her wasn't something she was going to turn down.

"Harder, Ron," she purred, eyes shut tight. "This is what I've needed for so long, and it's all because of you! Fuck me as hard and fast as you can, you're so big, so strong, so good! I'm close Ron, and I want to feel you cum inside of me." Her other hand gripped at the tablecloth beneath like it was a bed sheet, a raw declaration of the bliss throughout her body. Relief was sweet and long deserved, something intense and primal to consume her mind and her thoughts. Cheating seemed completely fair, but she'd gone an extra level, getting fucked on the kitchen table by the best friend of their son, a scandalous and far more destructive choice that she quite simply didn't care about the repercussions of. No amount of backlash seemed so bad, in a state beyond reason, of frenzied lust that consumed her and drove her to heights of arousal and carelessness that finally provided her a reprieve from worry and pain. How could she deny herself this? It was what she deserved.

Which is why, when it came to a dead stop, her eyes went wide and a needy, ragged whimper that seemed far too vulnerable and exposing for its own good wrenched itself from her lips. "Why?" she moaned, looking pleadingly up at Ron, who'd come to a dead stop with his lengthy, girthy dick embedded all the way inside of her but infuriatingly motionless. She'd been denied release so close to the edge of it, left to squirm uncomfortably in agony. Repeating her previous question of, "Why?" she seemed even more needy the second time. He even grabbed the wrist between her legs, keeping her from rubbing her clit in those last few precious seconds.

With a smirk, he leaned forward a little and said clearly, "Beg for it." It was hard to stop, but he was content with waiting a moment, if only to hear her plead for it, to have that final confirmation of victory. "Beg me to let you finish." The smile was smug and a little surprising, completely out of left field for someone who had been so devoted to her pleasure and to making her feel good, now denying her orgasm without a shred of mercy.

But she begged. Oh how she begged. The words couldn't come out of her mouth fast enough, pleas and vulgarity and promises of so many things, ragged screams as she fitfully writhed on the table, embarrassing herself to the smiling teenager balls-deep inside of her, who had dragged her down so deep into arousal she was willing to go to any length to get more of it. But it was, "Be my lover," that stuck out amid all of her other cries, making Ron's chest tighten in realization that he had done such a good job that at least on some primal level she wanted to make this a regular thing. No dirty talk could make him happier, and so he mercifully cut it off.

The thrusts were frenzied now, both of them too far gone to care as they raced toward release, and neither of them were too far from it. Ron came first, shouting loudly as his first, well-deserved orgasm sent a wave of pleasure his spine and he bucked forward into her leaking, gasping hole, balls tightening as they emptied and filled Lily with streams of hot seed. That warmth was enough to set her off as well, shoulders lifting off the table from how hard her head leaned back as she yelled out, consumed by fiery nirvana on her third orgasm of the morning, toes curling against his shoulders as she lit up. It was cathartic in many ways, some of which she couldn't even explain, but beneath the raw burning pleasure was something emotionally fulfilling, strange as it was.

After letting her legs down, Ron lay atop her, limp and lazy and seeking her lips. She had little breath and even less composure, but she found the strength to kiss him. She was happier than she'd been in years, and it was all because of him.

"Did you mean what you said?" he asked, stroking her cheek. "About being your lover?"

"Y-yes," she said, a little pang of guilt returning, but not one strong enough to make her rethink any of what she'd done or said. "We'll have to keep it secret, and put it on hold when you return to school. And of course, never breathe a word of this to Harry."

"I can do without telling my mate I'm banging his mum. Let's get cleaned up and dressed. We'll have some cake."


End file.
